


My Terrifying Tolkien Week 2017

by EveningAlchemist



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Halloween, Horror, M/M, Other, Poetry, Short, Terrifying Tolkien Week, damn i love the spoopy season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 03:52:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12622588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveningAlchemist/pseuds/EveningAlchemist
Summary: A collection of poems and short stories I did for Terrifying Tolkien Week 2017.1. All Shall Fade (even the great Fëanor): A poem about Fëanor's legacy, his scars, and his sons.2. Stars Hide Your Fires: A poem following a Maia of Varda being hunted by Ungoliant for her light3. Wild Hunt: Another poem, this one on a nightmare of Mairon’s after Melkor has entered the Void (angbang)4. The Iron Price: My last poem, from Melkor's point of view as he makes love to Mairon and laments his marred form (also angbang)5. Beauty is Terror: A short musing on a work of art of Annatar I did.6. Blood is Thicker Than Water: Mairon's last moments in Numenor (warning: exceptionally gory and angsty)7. nothing because I dropped the ball on the last day... maybe I'll fill it later?





	1. All Shall Fade

He was a cacophony

Birthed lonely

Born teething

Learned restless

Of Eä endless

Shook the stages

In invisible cages

Created great powers

From fiery rampages

Seethed in love

Ravished in rage

Knotted his heart 

For a better blood gauge

Fathered tears

Fostered fears

Demanded sympathy 

From beings of gears

All in fire

To expire

Oh great Fëanor,

What sacrifices his oath did require!

Killed their own

Sorrow sown

Left his sons

With bloodied bone

The pain of this they had their fills

Eternal heartache for the Silmarils

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a weird concatenation of rhymes. Hopefully it makes some sense!


	2. Stars Hide Your Fires

I fall softly into sound. Stories sang abound. I want to tell, but as I’ve said,

I softly fell.

I follow the light just like mine, this tumultuous twinkle, this gem in my wine.  
It casts a shadow of dance, and I step in tune, not knowing I shall be her meal soon. 

She leads me in obsidian undergrounds where the childless convened, to birth a daughter Arda has never seen.  
She speaks in pageless books and drinks from waterless streams. 

Eight legs of smoke twist on my throat, and every scream becomes my note.  
The hands on my neck become my own, as I float in the maelstrom all alone.

“Give me your lantern!” the dark being howls, which I return with a tear-soaked growl.

“Better not pray to Eru,” murmurs she in her putrid song. “You know no one’s loved you all along.”

“Let me go and I’ll do good,” I pray to Eru and many more. “Just first let me be rid of this worldless whore.”

She flickers in a moment of her past, a bright light burned and gone in a flash.  
Hypernovas ready to start, sway in the statistics of that broken being’s heart. 

Blood rain then fell with thunder bells and lashes me as I clutched onto hell.  
The wind snaps at my starry cloak, blackened with soot coughed in her croak. 

I hope on deep whims from wild whirlwinds that she takes no more limbs.  
It was not to be, for as much as I struggled I could not flee.

I slip deeper into the hole that seems to encompass her entire soul.  
Entropy destroys me there, takes me all and lays it bare.

I’m torn into forever, becoming no one whatsoever.  
Fractal failure happens then, but she just belches, ready to feed again.

We are the dolls that dance in her halls.  
So stars hide your fires, lest your soul be ultra vires.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HOPE THIS IS TERRIFYING ENOUGH FOR YOU. IT'S SUPER SPOOPY TO ME.


	3. Wild Hunt

The bastard was beautiful

I always and never cared

I traced his harsh lines

And put soot in his hair

Down to every last nook

All the while battling the ticking clock 

Of Arda’s greatest crook

I fought back at the pendulum

Until it gave back what it took

Then the ground shook

And all at once I learned

No one owns a ghost

Still I kissed his invisible lips

And he raised his final toast

Damn the holy

Pay the toll

I’m going to make his body whole

So hell sings and hell shouts

Until Dagor Dagorath comes about

Then my love rumbled and gave a yell

“The time is now that fairness fell!”

And all that was good began to quell

“Never cry,”

I’d say to myself, but the beauty was too strong during the death of the sky

The tears of hot iron that shook from my lashes

Ever enhanced the battles and clashes

The Great Hammer swung and all men hung

Honey soured and all bees stung

Mold burst forth from where he stepped

And geysers shrieked from where I crept

We met

Only then did I see

That this was nothing but a dream

For his eyes held none of his dark glee

Only an echo of the void they’d gleam

_I scream_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The kind of thing I write when I can’t sleep. At first it doesn’t make sense, then all at once I know who I’m writing about. Mairon makes a good muse in insomnia. Possibly because I imagine he has trouble resting as well.


	4. The Iron Price

Still stuck in this form, I howl and I rage

Still stuck in this world at the whims of the age

The pains shower sparks and shutter my eyes

They flicker and they flutter deep into my thighs

My love sighs

My demise

Hands wander, skin wonders, and I summon the storm

He bucks and he cries but I smile no more

To the chant of our blood I try to preform

For it is tiring to give life and give nothing and always deform

Door to floor lies the gore

But still he does moan and breathe breathes of fire

His submission sings rapture to the pluck of dark lyres

He never tires

My emotions mire

Lying beneath me so sweetly 

And I so beastly

The ground does tremble with my temper

For my spirit is dispersed and my body marred forever

He doesn’t care, but he should

I’d destroy myself and all else for him if I could

Arda is ours but I carry its debris

I, the great Vala amputee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Melkor contemplating his injuries and sacrifices (in his mind) for a better Arda always gives me chills. I also had to throw in some darker Angbang for good measure… spooky?


	5. Beauty is Terror

[~Art is here~](http://eveningalchemist.tumblr.com/post/166916670048/terrifying-tolkien-week-day-5-okay-so-i-was)

Perhaps his eyes are too bright, or his canines just too pointed (hence his close lipped smiles) or perhaps it is merely his body language that in private moments can betray his anger and his greed. He stands too close and whispers so sweet it is almost nauseating. Birds go silent when he passes, and he keeps no plants in his chambers. It is rumored they will not grow, or if they do, they are twisted, fruiting putrid, bulbous sacks of poison. Just bad luck, the elves say. 

He is brought gifts of food that are never eaten, and jewelry that is ignored, but he is beyond question for his form is exemplary of Elven goodness. It is assumed because he is beautiful that he is virtuous. Indeed he does seem generous, and even compassionate and kind, giving Celebrimbor many gifts, and leaving the children with little metal dragons to play with. 

Since his arrival, beloved pets have met grim ends and more Elves have gone missing than ever before, but still they fawn over Annatar and his hair that flows like liquid gold, as if it had a life of its own. While his lust for praise is satisfied during the day, his lust for blood rages on and at night he stalks the community as an animalistic shadow, bringing bad dreams at the least, and bad deaths at the most. No bodies are found, because there are none left. 

Even with all the violence he has wrought, Mairon feels suppressed, like he was all those years ago in Almaren. He counts the days until he can return to his own realm, and be what he considers his truly beautiful form. He misses his flaming hair and dark war paint. He misses black leather and iron and gold, but not as much as he misses someone else. Terrifying, and wonderful, despicable and admirable, he knows he is, and would not be anything else, _for him._


	6. Blood is Thicker Than Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BE WARNED: gore and torture involving sensitive bodily organs be here (and much angst)

Gold and jewels and fine silk and finer hair dripped from a figure as if from an open wound. His cloak spilled out onto the floor, the deepest red a person could see, just like the pools of blood that surrounded it, some rotted into dark slime. He was busy with his dark deeds. 

_Crack._

The unmistakable sound of breaking bones and muffled distress echoed into the round chamber lit by a ferocious fire. Pained sobs around binding silks shook from a naked man upon the cold, marble floor. Gentle shushing then issued, as if from nursemaid, and the other figure, tall and beautiful, dropped his club for a vial of pulsing liquid. It was not any kind of medicine. 

He tore off the man’s gag and his screams then fully resounded, bringing life into the chamber as the firelight flickered over the faces of the dead. In a circle laid their bodies, each meticulously murdered, no, sacrificed to the towering iron statue at their center. It was still the most dead thing in the room, but that did not stop Mairon, once enemy now adviser to the the Numenorean King. Melkor, his true Master, was many years gone, but he still had his work to do. 

His pale fingers pinching the man’s cheeks together, and so down came the poison. Now paralyzed the man could not squirm, so he laid stiff on the floor. Above him hovered his reaper who crouched down to press himself closer. The intimacy was anything but comforting. With the delicate motions of an artist, Mairon flicked open a small, ornate knife and began carving symbols into the man’s cornea. A star, a hammer, a heart, an eye, all were etched onto the man’s last moments of sight. 

Through them he saw his torturer grow in madness, no longer calm, no longer coiffed, but wild and desperate and shaking with grief. Or was it rage? The terrifying contortion of his face gave no clue towards his emotion, only his insanity. With each tiny motion of his hands, his brow twitched, like clockwork wound so tight it was breaking down.  
Then with no warning and none of his previous delicateness, Mairon tossed the tiny blade and thrust his fingers into his victim’s pulverized breastbone. With the ease of a monstrous god, he wrenched open his chest. The crack was almost as sickening as the squelch. Like a flower, the man bloomed, but all he could do was scream thoughts at himself in his head.

Inside the insidious bloom lay the man’s heart, still feebly beating, although his consciousness was long gone to the pain. Mairon smiled and cooed at the gory thing and bent even closer, parting his red lips to let his even redder tongue out. On the tip of his tongue he felt the last twitching beats of the man’s bleeding heart.

No moment of indulgence to spare, he rose and called out from his blood drenched mouth,

 **“Belekôrôz!”** as many times as he had killed. **_“Belekôrôz!”_**

When he finished his cawing calls, a pregnant moment held him still. As had happened many times before on his blood-soaked floors, no answer returned. The silence was deafening to his Discord-tuned ears.

It was then his frustration broke loose, all clenched muscles and shrieks of rage. He kicked the dead bodies, scattering their parts, but nothing came of it. Nothing could. Each man he’d chosen was tall and strong with long dark hair and deep dark eyes, but none were even a close match to whom he wished. It disgusted him that he even tried.

He crumpled, feeling of dust even as he was shrouded in gold, but not for long, as his anguish tarnished it all to black. He buried his face into his fists and bawled. His tears were gold, then blood, then black bile, but never water. Pitiful he knew it was, but he no longer cared. He ripped the jewelry from his ears and nose and tossed them to the altar, flesh and all. It was a meaningless sacrifice, as his face soon reformed.

So captured by his grief he was, he didn’t at first notice the screams outside his hall. Weary, he turned to see his doom. A wave that was a wall was bearing down. It would reach him in his hall of horrors soon.

Only now Eru had sent his doom upon him? Only now did he pass his judgment? After he and his Master had done? Corrupted land into hell, corrupted beasts into monsters, corrupted elves into orcs, and now men into their true form. A few worthless deaths, and now it was his turn?

A putrid laugh bubbled in his throat, and like vomit, he could not contain it. He spewed his laughter upon the marble floor, echoed it off the columns and cast it into the high ceiling. It rocked him almost painfully so.

Mairon continued to laugh, even as the first of the water rushed up the steps. It gurgled and rumbled, but somehow did not even compare to the way Mairon roared. It caught his robes and swirled them about. The bodies floated, horrified faces up, for a moment and then sunk.

The wave struck deeper than any blow, washing the layers of blood from the floor, and the skin from his bones. But in the rushing tide he could not reform. It was then Mairon’s panic began, and there that Sauron begun.

Blood is thicker than water, and so he sank away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is close to horrifying as I can write. Hopefully it’s not the weird grammar that’s horrifying. …Happy Halloween? 
> 
> Valarin version of Melkor’s name from [Valarin Ventures](https://valarinventures.tumblr.com/post/118861052488/reconstructed-valarin-names?is_related_post=1#notes)


End file.
